


seven

by kissyharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Breakup, Declarations Of Love, Letters, M/M, Makeup, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissyharry/pseuds/kissyharry
Summary: seven things louis loved about harry.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

I loved everything about you, but here are seven things that make me wish you hadn't left.

Seven. I loved your smile, it was bright and loving. Your mom used to tell me it only shone that bright when you looked at me, like on prom night, or our graduation. She would say, "I've never seen Harry, smile that big around anyone. Anyone, ever, I think."  
That night, I made sure to tell you I loved your smile at least a hundred times.

Six. I loved your family, almost as much as I loved you. Although, this may not be you, they helped make you who you are. So that's why they're, Six. First, I love(d) your mom, her warm hugs and especially her homemade hot chocolate. She treated me like her own, giving me shelter and love when my own wouldn't. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her enough for that. I also loved Gemma, her witty personality and humor that clashed so well with mine. She was beautiful and comforting, I would've done anything to keep her happy. Lastly, I loved your relationship with them. I loved sitting in on your family dinners and hearing about Gemmas day. I loved how you looked up to your mom, how she was your inspiration. I loved how you looked after Gemma, made sure she got home safe and held her when she cried. You were always so caring.

Five. I loved your way with words. You had an adjective for anything and everything, a tongue full of fire but the words you spat were love. You had poems on your walls and words hanging above your head. You wrote me poems on desks and napkins on airplanes. You knew how to make my heart soar in just three stanzas. I loved you for that. 

Four. Your body. You made me feel small in the best of ways and I ever-so-obviously, adored it. You held me down and kept me grounded. My cheeks would burst into flames but your hand on my shoulder turned me as cold as ice. You had a way to make my head spin with just a pinch on my skin, you knew your way around my body and that's why I loved yours. Not because you were fit, or tan, but because your body knew mine. Sometimes, I hope it still does.

Three. I still love your ambition. The way you get so focused on something you don't leave your room for hours. I remember, one time, you were making Gemmas halloween costume and didn't leave your room for six hours. I was so worried. When I found out what you were doing that whole time my heart leaped from my chest and into your hands. You put love into everything you do. From the way you work on a school project, to when you're kissing me. You have ambition and you have set goals. I hope I didn't ruin it for you.

Two. I loved the way you made people (me) feel. How you could encourage them with looks and smiles. I loved how you cared for everyone. How you would give $100 to a homeless man when most people would keep walking, not even sparing a glance. You made people feel welcome. Loved. I remember one time, we were at the arcade. This little boy came in, his hands shaking and his voice stuttering when he asked if he could play a few games. The women asked if he had any money, and when he said no, because his family was homeless, she turned him away. He started crying on the steps outside, and you went out and spoke to him. I still remember the way you told him that it would all be okay, that you were a friend. He smiled at you, and gave you a hug. I don't think I've ever loved someone more than I loved you in that moment. You gave him money, watched him play, and hugged him at the end of the night. That was who you were. I loved the way you made me feel too, the way your hands felt on my chest and in my hair. I loved the way you would press up against me at night and I loved the way you held me close. I loved you for all of that. I hope you still make people feel that way. 

One. I love(d) the way you loved me. As selfish as it sounds. Making number One about me. I did though, I loved your touches and kisses, your hands on my thighs and in my hair. I loved the way you looked at me, your eyes shinning and green. So green. I loved the way you woke up next to me, hot breath on my neck and strong arms around me. The way you verbalized it. I remember once, we were outside, my nose in a book, yours too. We were reading and suddenly you stopped. You stopped and looked up, "I love you" and that was it. You said it to see my face and I loved that. I loved how you loved me. I loved how you loved that I loved you. The ways you didn't say it too, warm hands on my spine, asking if I got home safe. Kissing me on your doorstep, and making my coffee in the morning. I loved the fights. Because even though they hurt, they're what kept our love going. When you got mad at me for going out with a boy, which wasn't even a date, I loved you for getting mad. For being angry that I wasn't with you. I loved the way you said my name, with hearts in your eyes and kisses on your lips. I loved the way you said it when we made love. I loved the way you said it the first time, at the sunflower field near your house. You said it at sunset with stars in your eyes and love in your heart. I loved it. I loved the way you loved me. I hope someone else gets to be loved by you the way you loved me.

Seven. Seven things, important, things that made me love you. I hope the next person you love, loves these things about you. As selfish as it sounds, I also hope I'm the last person you ever love back. 

When you read this, just know I'll wait. Even in ten years, if I have a boyfriend and stable job. If you want me back my heart is yours. It forever will be. 

The thing I loved the most about you, that wasn't on this list. Is the most important thing, the one that kept me going and made my heart spin in the morning.

I loved you being my best friend. 

I can only hope one day you feel that way too, because it isn't fair for me to wait my whole life for someone who will never come back. I know you believe in playing it fair. 

I'll miss you, Harry. 

So when you read this, if you do, call me. Text me, write me a letter. 

I need to know you loved me too.


	2. Chapter 2

It has been seven months since I wrote to you. Seven months filled with self-imposed worry and suspense. Had you ever even received the letter? Did it get lost in the mail, for you to never see? Or did you get it? Did you end up reading the tender words I wrote full of love and heartache? Did you rip it up until there was nothing left to tear? Did you see my name on the envelope and throw it into the trash without a second thought, without even reading my truest truths? Everyday, for the last seven months, I've been thinking about you. Although that means nothing, considering that's what I've done everyday for the last three lonely years. 

You never truly knew how much you meant to me, and whether that was because my adolescence self didn't know how to give you all my love, or because of all the miscommunication between us along the way. I tried my best to show you everyday how much you meant to me. I assure you I most certainly did, but maybe my best was never enough back then. Maybe my best isn't enough now, either. 

My best was calling you when I got home safe and kissing you when nobody (or everybody) was watching. You had always been so vastly superior at showing me how much I truly meant to you. 

You wrote me poems and sang me love songs, words laced with promises and dreams, that we both thought were destined to come true. You would knock on my door at two in the morning with a bouquet of flowers and glue in the palm of your hand, so perfectly meant for me to get stuck to. 

You were always better than me at that. That's something I will never be able to argue. 

We both lacked the correct communication skills though, the ones that might have saved us. But, although that's on both me and you, I can't help but think I played a bigger role in it. A role that would've made things right again. 

I never wanted to start conflicts with you, never wanting it to tear us apart, but in the end, the lack of such is exactly what did. 

I had dreams after we ended things. Dreams where you would show up on my doorstep with love on your lips and apologies in your touch. Dreams that were all too good to be true, and left me just as hurt as before when I awoke.

We were both so blisteringly stubborn, neither of us ever wanting to apologize first. You always did though, no matter whose fault it was. That's where we went wrong in the end, I believe. After we broke up, I always assumed you would come back, say sorry, and then we'd be good again. I had let my past beliefs determine my future. 

I often wonder what we could've been, if I had put my pride aside for one second, and said sorry. Would things be different? 

It's hard to think about. Knowing things will never be the same again anyway. That even if you read these letters, you might not care.

What's even harder, is that I know you well enough to know that could never be true. 

You were always so compassionate. It didn't matter if someone did you wrong a hundred times, if they were in trouble, you'd help them in a heartbeat. 

It hurts to know I may not be one of those people anymore. 

Anyway, I don't even know much about your life now. Things could be so much different. No, sorry, things are so much different, no matter what you turned out to be. 

You could be married for all I know. With kids too, at that. A lot can happen in three years, more than I'd like to admit. Especially for someone as beautiful and kind hearted as you, Harry, because I know I wanted to marry you the second I met you. But that's not the point. 

If you read all of this, or just skipped to the end, I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not going back to you. I'm sorry for everything. 

And it may be risky to say, but I hope that in some other universe, we're still together. Because life without you sucks. 

Always yours, 

Louis. 

-

Louis sealed the envelope with his spit slick tongue, letting it gently glide on the paper. His heart raced, this paper full of everything he never had the courage to say to, Harry. He flattened the seal, locking it in place. He shuddered as he wrote Harrys name on the envelope, heart pulsing with each letter. 

The nerves of Harry ignoring yet another letter coursed through him, he doesn't think he'd be able to handle that kind of rejection again. He might start writing letters every month to him, just because his heart says to, until Harry has enough and files a restraining order. 

Harry wouldn't do that though. The restraining order part, at least. So, Louis pushes a stamp onto the envelope, before carefully placing it into his bag. 

On his drive to the post office, he could barely function. His hands trembled on the steering wheel, and his foot tapped anxiously by the gas pedal. The ride is longer than Harry anticipated, probably because of his fidgeting, but he finally gets to the post office. 

He steps out of his car nervously, feeling like a fish out of water, he slams his car door shut. He walks slowly inside, happy to see no line, he immediately goes up to the desk. 

The lady behind the counter grins at him, her brunette hair framing her face softly. Louis smiles back, pulling the envelope out of his bag and placing it on the counter. "I-I'm uh, here to mail a letter." 

"Sweetie, you only come up here if you have to mail a package." She smiles softly, understanding in her eyes. "You can put your envelope in the mailbox over there," she points behind Louis’ head, he takes a step back to see it. "I hope whoever you're sending that to is worthy of it. Is it a friend?"

"I- yeah. Sort of, old friend, I guess you can say." The realization completely dawns on her then, her eyes going soft as she nods in response, turning around to sort through packages. 

He walks over to the mailbox, the envelope feeling like brick in his hands. The weight of his words crushing his fingers. He doesn't have time to rethink it though, as he opens it up and drops his letter in. He lets it slam shut, not even flinching at the clanging metal. 

He sighs in relief as he steps back, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders, he smiles. 

"I hope everything works out," the brunette woman says once Louis turns around. Her voice is genuine, a soft smile once again on her face.

"Thank you, have a nice day." Louis barely gets out, before he walks out the doors into the summer sun. 

\- 

It's three weeks later, rain pouring outside Louis’ window. He listens to the sound of it pattering on the glass, slowly soothing him. He hasn't heard from Harry, and it really shouldn't make him as sad as it does, but whatever. Maybe he got the address wrong, I mean, Louis probably shouldn't have just immediately assumed Harry still lives in his parents old house. But he could, and that was all he needed when he wrote down the address. 

Still, Harry had yet to reach out in any way, and Louis’ heart ached for any form of interaction. He would even accept a rejection at this point, that's how desperate he was. 

The rain is getting louder outside his window, a burst of thunder making him jump under his blanket. He stays to watch anyway, the sound still peaceful even when it's harsh. Despite it being not even nine in the evening, his eyes begin to fall shut, being lulled into sleep by the rain. 

Ding.

Ding. 

Ding. 

He frowns. Who on earth could be ringing his doorbell in the middle of a storm? He groans, a knock sounding through his house as he picks himself up. He pads down the stairs slowly, eyes heavy as he pulls the door open, not even bothering to check who it was through the peephole first. 

His eyes widen as he sees the figure in front of him. He's taller than the last time Louis had seen him, which shouldn't be fair, honestly, and his once pale skin was now sun kissed, a few tattoos scribbled in random places. He holds back the urge to gasp, but that only leads to him letting out a choking noise. 

"Harry?" Is what he finally gets the urge to say, and Louis instantly wants to slam the door shut and forget this ever happened. Just pretend it was another dream and go to bed. He can't though, because water is dripping down Harrys face, hair clutching his forehead and shirt grasping his toned body. He manages to think about how incredibly unfair it is that Harry has only gotten more attractive in the last three years. Which, really, is nowhere near what he should be thinking about at this exact moment. 

"Louis." Harry smiles softly, water slipping into his mouth as he does so. He's not wearing a jacket, his black ripped jeans clinging to his thighs as he stands on Louis’ doorstep. 

"What are you doing here?" Louis’ voice is soft, nerves peaking out as he wraps an arm protectively around himself. "I mean- how did you know where I live?"

Harry tilts his head like he always does when he's amused, and Louis has to ignore the butterflies in his tummy at that. "Your return address was on the letters, Lou." 

"Right." Louis blanks, because yeah, it was, and he's so unbelievably stupid. He had forgotten what Harry’s nickname for him had sounded like on his tongue, and now that he heard it again, he didn't want to go another day of his life without it. Harry held his smile, before he pushed a piece of wet hair out of his face. 

"Um, listen, I don't mean to like, invite myself in but-" he shrugs, water droplets rolling down his arms. "I've been standing here for ten minutes, and I don't know if you've noticed, but it's pouring rain." 

Louis’ eyes go wide at that, hand slapping over his mouth as he opens the door more. Harry steps in, water pooling around his feet on the rug. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! You must be freezing, oh shit. You can take a hot shower if you need to. And I have dry clothes you can borrow."

Louis says it before he can stop himself, and he knows it's the right thing to do, but he hasn't seen Harry in his clothes in so long, he isn't even sure the taller boy would be able to fit them anymore. Harry has always been bigger than him, but as he stood in front of him now, Louis wondered if he had tripled in size since he saw him last. Harry doesn't seemed as bothered by the offering as Louis would've thought, a smile tugging on his lips (and Louis’ heart). "That'd be lovely, thank you."

\- 

Twenty minutes later Louis is sat in his living room, mug of hot tea burning his hands as he waited for Harry to finishing showering. He couldn't even bother placing the mug down, nerves so high that the warmth soothed him, in some way. Louis trembled at the thought of him and Harry talking about his letters. Because as much as he hoped Harry would respond, he never actually thought he would. Let alone he would show up at Louis’ house in the pouring rain. 

Harrys clothes were in the dryer, so Louis wasn't surprised when the older boy walked into the room, wearing a shirt that was certainly too tight and joggers that clung to his thighs. He could barely tear his eyes away, Harry looked just as beautiful as he always did. 

"So, I think we both know why I'm here." Harry said softly, taking a seat next to Louis on the couch. Louis just nodded, offering Harry a sip from his mug of tea. Harry took it, sipping slowly. "I obviously got your letter. Letters." 

Louis’ heart was pounding so loud he was sure Harry could hear it from across the couch, his hands trembling slightly as Harry returned the mug. "Yeah. I wrote those, yes." What the fuck? Was all that was running through Louis’ head, because seriously, what the fuck? Did he forgot how to speak or something? Because his voice now was surely not as eloquent as the words in his letters. 

"I figured you did, you know, since they were addressed from you and all." Harry laughs, a big tan hand coming to cover his mouth slightly. Louis scowled, he had always hated when Harry did that. "I felt that we should speak about them. Which is why I'm here."

"I wrote the first one nearly nine months ago, Harry. Why didn't you want to speak after that one?" Louis found his voice again, and although it was trembling, it was strong. It was sure. He placed his mug on the side table, not even caring to make sure there was a coaster beneath it as he did so. 

Harry sighed, running a hand through his dark brown curls, before letting it rest on his knee. He looked just as nervous as Louis did, in that moment. His cheeks tinted pink under the golden lights in Louis’ home, Louis’ clothes warm against his body as he sunk into the couch. "I wanted to, I did, but you didn't put a return address on the first letter you sent." 

Louis shrunk where he was, guilt washing over him at the realization. He knew he hadn't, he wrote the first letter with passion and fire, only taking him a few minutes to complete. When he was finished he was so excited to send it out that he quickly scribbled Harrys address, not caring to add his, as that would just waste more time getting it to the older boy. He never thought about the fact that Harry wouldn't know where to look for him. 

"I'm so sorry. I was in such a hurry to just mail it out to you, it must've crossed my mind." Harry shook his head, but Harry just smiled his signature smile. Warm and inviting, like he wanted Louis to move closer. So Louis did, he shifted slightly, subtly moving closer to the older boy. He couldn't tell if Harry noticed, his face remaining neutral. 

"It's okay, Louis. I understand." Harry smiled, hand tightening on his own knee. "Honestly, when I got the first letter, I was so unbelievably shocked. I didn't read it for a few days. I put it on my nightstand, and every night I would look at it and try to sense if I was ready to see what you had written me." He let out a quiet laugh, eyes dropping to the blanket in between them. 

"I had no clue what it was going to say. So, I asked my mom and Gemma, what they thought it could say. Gemma was so sure it was going to be you telling me you had happily moved on. That maybe you had just gotten engaged or adopted a child and wanted to make amends with me so you could begin your new life without any regrets. She said that's why you didn't add your address, so I wouldn't be able to find you." Harrys eyelashes fluttered, before he was looking back up at Louis. "My mom didn't believe that though. She told Gemma she was wrong, that you had written me something sweet and heartfelt. She told me not to worry about her, that she knew you better than Gemma ever did."

Louis nodded, not trusting his voice to support him at this moment. Harry looked so sincere, heart on his sleeve as he spoke to Louis. Just like it had always been. Harry drew his arm up the back of the couch, letting it rest there as he sat in the silence. "Did you like them?"

Louis’ voice was so quiet Harry barely even heard him, turning his head over to the younger boy in confusion. "What?" 

"Did you like the letters?" Louis cleared his throat after he spoke, pushing a strand of curls behind his ear. Harry smiled, nodding his head yes as Louis not-so-subtly shifted closer to him. 

"I absolutely loved them, Louis." His smile only widened, dropping his hand to Louis’ knee, squeezing lightly. "After I had finally gotten the guts to read the first one, I was aching to see you. But I couldn't, for obvious reasons, and it was terrible. I got a new phone awhile ago, so I had to get a new number and all of my contacts were wiped. So I couldn't even call you." Harry sighed, thumb rubbing into Louis’ skin. "When I had gotten the second letter, I ripped it open immediately. I got into my car as soon as I could to come here." They locked eyes. "To come to you."

Louis felt like he was about to start sobbing, bottom lip trembling as Harry spoke. He regretted not taking the extra second to write his own address on the first letter, because it would've brought Harry to him sooner. "I'm sorry,"

"For what?" Harrys eyebrows furrowed. 

"For what happened between us, it was all my fault. I knew how much going to Uni in London meant to you. I was selfish though. I didn't want anyone else to have you, didn't want you to be away from me for even a second." Louis huffs, a tear sliding on his cheek. "If I had been even the slightest bit considerate none of this would have ever happened. I wouldn't have lost you." 

Harry gets up from the couch, and for a second Louis thinks he went too far, that Harry was going to leave now. He didn't leave though. He pulled Louis up into his arms, and Louis immediately felt so small. Harrys arms looped around his back, holding him so close Louis could hardly breathe. Harry sighed, a hand running through Louis’ hair, the other steady on his waist. Louis felt content like this, a feeling he hadn't felt in so many years, but he craved every day. 

"Oh, baby," Harry pulled back, wiping the tear on Louis’ cheek. The younger boys cheeks tinted pink and eyes watercolor blue. He rubbed his thumb into Louis’ cheek, the boy going soft under Harrys familiar touch. Louis looked up at him with wide eyes, Harry staring back just as intently. "you never lost me."


End file.
